Finding Courage in Secondhand Lions: A Reflection on Purpose, Belief, and Burnout
A few weeks ago, my therapist gave me a simple suggestion to rewatch Secondhand Lions. He knew I had been wrestling with deep burnout, questioning my direction in life, and struggling to identify what I truly wanted to do. His reasoning was that sometimes, in the midst of exhaustion, stories can speak to us in ways logic and planning can’t.
At first, I wasn’t sure what I would get out of it. I had seen it before, though years ago, and honestly, I didn’t remember much. But when I sat down alone and pressed play, I quickly realized that it was exactly the kind of story I needed in this moment. It gave me some much-needed laughter—something that has been rare for me lately—and it offered lessons that felt both timeless and strangely personal.
This post is not just about reviewing the film but about reflecting on what it stirred in me: questions about courage, belief, freedom, and what it means to live a life worth living.
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The Story That Resonates
For those unfamiliar, Secondhand Lions tells the story of Walter, a young boy sent to spend the summer with his eccentric uncles, Hub (Robert Duvall) and Garth (Michael Caine). The two men are wealthy but mysterious, rumored to have lived wild, adventurous lives across the world. Over time, Walter learns the truth of their past through a series of larger-than-life stories, some of which sound almost too incredible to be real.
The uncles, despite their gruff exteriors and disregard for polite society, become unlikely mentors to Walter. They teach him about courage, independence, and the importance of believing in something—even if it cannot be proven. By the end of the movie, Walter has not only found role models but has also gained the courage to pursue his own path in life.
Laughing Through the Fog
The first thing that struck me on this rewatch was how much I laughed. It had been a long time since I laughed out loud at something, but Hub and Garth’s antics—whether shooting at traveling salesmen or buying a literal lion for their front yard—caught me off guard in the best way.
There’s something healing about laughter when you’ve been living in a fog of burnout. It’s a reminder that joy can still exist, even in small, unexpected places. And while laughter alone doesn’t fix everything, it cracked something open for me: a reminder that life is more than endless responsibility and exhaustion.
Living Without Permission
What resonated even more deeply, though, was the way the uncles lived their lives. They did what they wanted, no matter what anyone thought of them. They were eccentric, defiant, even reckless—but they were unapologetically themselves.
That hit me hard because I often feel the opposite. I care too much about what others think. I struggle with the weight of expectation—whether from work, family, or even my own inner critic. Watching Hub and Garth disregard all that, living fully on their own terms, made me wish I could tap into that same freedom.
There’s something profoundly liberating about the idea of disassociating from external judgment and simply being. Not in a selfish, harmful way, but in a way that honors one’s true self. The uncles didn’t live to please anyone. They lived to live.
Walter’s Search Mirrors My Own
Another layer of the film that connected with me was Walter’s journey. He arrives at his uncle’s farm lost and isolated. In his case, it’s because of neglectful parents and an unstable upbringing. For me, it’s more about the mental and emotional weight of burnout. But the feeling of being unmoored, of not knowing where to turn or what path to take, felt familiar.
Walter finds strength in the presence of his uncles. He finds guidance where none existed before. And he discovers that even the wildest, most unbelievable stories can carry lessons about courage and resilience.
For me, I didn’t have uncles like Hub and Garth. Having lost my father this year, I don’t even have a him to lean on anymore. Part of what I got out of this movie was that I need to find new mentors, friends, and even fictional characters who serve a similar role. Growing up I found fictional role models in characters like Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, but as I grow older and as actors like Leonard Nimoy pass on, I begin to feel empty, isolated once again. Watching this movie again has given me a strong desire to find new people (hopefully real) that I can lean on and learn from.
This film also challenged me in my role as a parent. Am I good mentor and role model for my son? Has my mental health struggle gotten in the way of my ability to teach and guide him in life? When I look at this from another perspective, this time as the Hub, I wish that I could be that for my son. In some ways, this film gave me more questions than answers.
Believing in Something
One of the most memorable lines in the movie is when Hub tells Walter:
“Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most. That people are basically good. That honor, courage, and virtue mean everything. That power and money mean nothing. That good always triumphs over evil. And true love never dies. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. A man should believe in those things because those are the things worth believing in.”
That speech has always stuck with audiences, and for good reason. It captures the heart of the movie. But on this rewatch, I had a more complicated reaction.
Part of me desperately wants to believe what Hub says—that power and money mean nothing. That people are basically good. But in my own struggles, I keep running into barriers that are created by money and being hurt by people that are evil. Bills to pay, responsibilities to manage, dreams put on hold because of financial limitations and pain caused by others.
This is the tension I’m wrestling with: how to hold onto belief in the deeper things—courage, love, honor—while also navigating the very real constraints of modern life. It’s an ongoing internal battle, and I don’t have an easy answer. But the movie reminded me that maybe the point isn’t to erase the tension. Maybe it’s to keep believing in the things that matter, even while facing the hard realities.
What the Movie Gave Me
In the end, rewatching Secondhand Lions wasn’t just a pleasant distraction. It was a mirror. It reminded me that feeling lost is not the end of the story. That courage can be found, even in unexpected places. That laughter still matters. That belief—whether in honor, love, or something bigger than ourselves—can carry us through the darkest moments.
I don’t have all the answers. I’m still working through my burnout. I’m still figuring out what I want to do and how to move forward. But this movie gave me something important: a reminder that it’s okay to not have it all figured out yet. And maybe, just maybe, the point isn’t to find a perfect path but to keep walking with courage, even when the way is unclear.
Closing Thoughts
Secondhand Lions is, on the surface, a simple movie: part comedy, part coming-of-age story, part whimsical adventure. But beneath the surface, it’s about something much deeper. It’s about belief, courage, mentorship, and the importance of living a life true to yourself.
For me, it was more than just a rewatch. It was a conversation with my younger self, a reminder from my therapist, and a push from the universe to keep searching for joy and meaning.
And maybe that’s the greatest gift of stories like this: they don’t just entertain us. They help us live.
Mr_Banani